Great Ming: I'm Zhu Li, and From the Start I Inherit the Divine Machine's Hundred Refinements

The protagonist is a hypocrite. He claims Zhu Biao couldn't escape this calamity; he clearly doesn't value brotherhood. If he truly wanted to save him, he would have given him the medicine under the guise of visiting his elder brother.

All the barbarians were killed. Zhu Biao didn't actually have to die.

People are thinking of you even on their deathbeds, but the main character doesn't even glance at you when you're dying. It's so annoying!

Those who say the protagonist can use both hands (i. E., Dual-wield), please take a look: the protagonist spent three years without grasping anything. In other words, the protagonist hasn't even scratched the surface, so how could he possibly use it?

They would have killed them all in ancient times.

I'm curious, isn't there a skill called "Dual-Handed Healing" among the Eight Extraordinary Skills that can cure all diseases in the world? Why would someone need to practice alchemy?

If the protagonist is going to save people, then be serious. Stop talking about some kind of calamity and then telling everyone they don't believe you. That's nonsense. The pills you concoct show no miraculous effects whatsoever; they're practically poison. Who would believe it unless they've seen its effects firsthand? If you don't want to save people, then don't. This whole charade has completely killed any desire to continue watching. I'm speechless. Whatever you think? –_–?

I don't understand. Suddenly the protagonist dies there a hundred years later, and there's no national destiny for another hundred years. It feels like the protagonist has gone crazy.

Are you stupid to get into insurance and mortgages?

The original calculations suggested that the protagonist already had steam engines when he ascended the throne, yet his descendants, even after eleven generations, were still invaded by nomadic tribes? Does this mean your book's development progresses from the Steam Age to the Stone Age? Even if I count eleven generations as thirty-one, that's over three hundred years.